


Worth Waiting For

by weasley86



Category: Happiest Season (2020)
Genre: Banter, F/F, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Lesbian Cliches, Light Angst, Post-Canon Fix-It, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasley86/pseuds/weasley86
Summary: “I would have crushed on you so hard in high school.”Loving someone isn't always enough. Sometimes your story plays out just the way you need it to.
Relationships: Abby Holland/Riley Johnson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 336





	Worth Waiting For

A year after their first Christmas, Abby and Harper got married. It was a big spectacle, fitting of the Caldwell family. John was Abby’s best man, and Sloane and Jane stood beside Harper. Abby wore a custom made suit and Harper a beautiful, classic wedding gown. There was a huge cake and a lavish four-course dinner reception. John got drunk and made a speech in which he railed against the institution of marriage and the patriarchy. Abby was pissed, but all of the Caldwell’s friends thought he was utterly charming. Riley kissed them both on the cheek but pulled Harper aside and whispered, “Don’t mess this up.”

Two years later, Abby and Harper got divorced. It was not a big spectacle. It was quiet and sad and their hearts were both broken. They mutually agreed it was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make dividing up your life any easier. There are photographs and furniture and that stupid teddy bear Abby bought Harper on their first Valentine’s Day together. There’s the apartment and the Subaru and what feels like a lifetime of memories and clutter. There’s that awkward time in between. There’s still sleeping in the same bed, but not saying I love you. There’s morning coffee and after work beer but no kisses goodbye and hello. There’s going from everything… to something… to nothing at all.

Neither one of them was the villain. Abby wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

A month later Harper started dating a master’s student at Pitt, and Abby knew she had to get out of Pittsburgh as quickly as possible.

* * *

John had moved to New York about a year ago, and so it was the natural choice. She scored a job lecturing at one of the CUNYs and worked part-time at a small modern art gallery on the Upper East Side. Abby ignored everyone’s calls and texts for four months.

John finally found himself beating on her new apartment door, shouting loud enough so that the neighbors could hear, “Abigail Holland, if you do not open this door right now, I will tell everyone in this building how you gave me chlamydia - “

“What the fuck, John?” Abby undid the trio of locks and opened the door enough that John could push his way into her apartment.

“You weren’t responding to my texts. I had to come check and make sure you weren’t dead.”

“I’m not dead.”

“And I know that now, thank you.” John stared at her, arms crossed.

“I’m so sorry,” and with that, Abby was in John’s arms, crying into his cashmere sweater. Neither one really knew what she was apologizing for, but John hugged her and let her cry anyway. “I wanted so badly to make it work.”

“I know you did,” he sighed, “but sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes no matter what you do, you can’t make it work. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“It should have been over that first Christmas.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t. And I know you don’t regret that.”

“I feel like I’m at the end of my rope, John.”

“That’s okay. We can get you some more rope.”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

“You do that by letting me help you. By letting people in again. Text Jane, she misses you. Or call Riley, we all live in the same city now. She’s been worried about you.”

* * *

The next week, John got Abby to meet him for coffee.

The week after, they had dinner.

A month later, they had drinks at a dive bar. Abby got sufficiently hammered, but spent the night laughing instead of crying. John put her to bed on his couch and made fun of her bedhead in the morning.

Three months later, John set Abby up on a blind date (it didn’t go anywhere, but he was proud of her nonetheless).

Six months later Abby ran into Riley Bennett in the grocery store on First Avenue. ( _Why is New York the biggest city and smallest town all in one?_ )

Two weeks after they ran into each other, Abby texted that they should meet up for coffee.

* * *

“Is this what being an adult is? Trying for weeks to get our schedules aligned for a cup of coffee?”

They were both older. The dark circles under Abby’s eyes had grown larger and she could see the laugh lines on Riley’s face were beginning to stand out just a bit more.

“You look good,” Riley said, looking Abby up and down.

“I look better now than I did six months ago. John was about to turn the hose on me.”

“He’s been worried about you. I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t respond to any of your texts,” Abby blurted out, raising her hand to her face and pushing her hair back.

“Hey, it’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to jump off the Verrazzano or something.”

“No, no, it was never like that. To jump off the bridge, I would need the energy to make it to the bridge in the first place. But I’m doing better now. I read all of your texts even if I never responded,” Abby tucked her hair behind her ear, “I like your tales from the pediatric ward.”

The conversation paused as they stood staring studiously at the menu board.

“Can I get a peppermint mocha yet or is it still pumpkin spice season?” Abby raised an eyebrow and chewed on her lower lip.

“I think it’s pumpkin spice for another week or so. Too bad, I could go for a gingerbread latte.”

“So get pumpkin spice. It’s, like, the same spice family or something.”

“Are you stoned right now? Pumpkin spice tastes like pumpkin. Gingerbread tastes like gingerbread,” Riley said, staring at Abby like she had grown three heads.

“First of all, the actual taste of pumpkin is gross. The spices are what make the drink palatable. The ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and stuff. Which are the same exact spices they use in the gingerbread latte,” Abby fought back. It felt good to be arguing about something as ridiculous as Starbucks lattes.

“Yeah, and?”

“I’m just saying. It’s basically the same drink.”

* * *

Three days later, Riley dropped off a pumpkin spice latte and a container of homemade gingerbread cookies.

“Thanks, smartass,” Abby whispered in her ear as she took the coffee and pulled Riley in for a hug. Riley had to get to work, but she left with a promise of drinks soon.

A text from Abby later that night, _These are the best cookies I’ve ever had. Gingerbread definitely wins over pumpkin._

* * *

A week later they met up outside of a dive bar on Second Avenue.

Riley grabbed a booth while Abby went to the bar to order a round.

“Close your eyes,” Abby said as she slid into the booth. Riley did as she was told. “Wow, that was amazing. I can’t believe you just closed your eyes like that.”

“I guess I trust you? Should I be afraid right now?”

“No, here, take your beer. Take a sip.”

“With my eyes closed?”

“Yes. Just do it.” Abby guided Riley’s hands to the pint glass and made sure she wasn’t going to spill, “Now taste.”

Riley raised the glass to her lips and drank, “It tastes like crap,” she said as she opened her eyes.

“It’s a pumpkin beer with cinnamon and sugar on the rim.”

“Fine, you win. The cinnamon and sugar are the best part.”

Abby ended up drinking the pumpkin beer and let Riley have her IPA.

* * *

A week after that, Friday night dinner after work had turned into drinks at the bar down the street.

“I would have crushed on you so hard in high school,” Abby grinned and swirled her whiskey around in its tumbler.

“Oh really? Only in high school?” Riley teased.

Abby blushed and stuttered, “You, you know what I mean. I would have stared at you in math class, trying to figure out if you were gay or not.”

“After Harper outed me, I wore a rainbow button on my bag. Big gay energy. There was no sense in denying it.”

“I was a little riot grrl baby dyke, so you wouldn’t have had to question it.”

Riley smirked over her pint glass, “Did you have a mohawk?”

“Junior year, yeah. It was blue.”

“I want to see those photos someday.”

“Hey, don’t make fun! I was out and proud and I wanted everybody to fucking know it.”

Riley leaned back in the booth and sipped her beer, “So what would you have done if you were crushing on me in high school?”

“I would have made you a mix tape. Ani DiFranco, Bikini Kill. I would write the lyrics on the tracklist, and hope you listened to every track as closely as I did”

“This guy Brad made me a mix CD in high school. It was garbage pop music. When I had my first college girlfriend, she thought mix tapes were too high school. I always wanted a girl to make me a mix.”

“I would have wooed you by the end of the 80 minutes.”

“Awfully cocky there, Holland.”

“I had game in high school. Being the only out dyke in your high school helps.”

“So, a mix tape. What next?”

“I’d ask if you wanted to go get Slurpees after school,” Abby laughed.

“I would have said yes.”

“I’d have waited for you outside your last class, and I would have walked you to my ‘93 Ford Explorer. I was so proud of that thing.”

“Did you have to have a step stool to climb up in the driver's seat?” Riley was intentionally giving her a hard time now.

“I am not that short, thanks. Besides, if you grab onto the steering wheel, you can haul yourself up into anything,” Abby grinned.

“So you’d take me for a Slurpee after school. What’s your next move, Casanova?”

“I would have held your hand in the hallway and walked you to class. And if anyone said anything, I’d key their car.”

“Did you really key cars?”

“Kevin Allen called me a dyke in front of my entire history class. It took him weeks to buff the scratch out of his Mustang.”

“I’m oddly turned on by this,” Riley laughed. Abby swallowed hard.

“I probably would have tried to get you drunk at a party on Friday night.”

Riley gestured to the glasses between them, “I’m sorry, and sixteen-year-old Abby is different from adult Abby how?”

“Uh, I have better taste in alcohol? And I dress better,” Abby glanced down and gestured at her tailored button-up, “And I’m not trying to get you drunk. If we both end up intoxicated, it’s just an added bonus.”

“Teenage Abby wouldn’t have had to get me drunk,” Riley raised an eyebrow and grinned suggestively, “The mohawk would have worked just fine.”

“And just for the record, adult Abby wouldn’t have to get me drunk, either.”

* * *

And then it was Christmas again.

_When are you leaving for Pennsylvania?_

_I’m not. My parents are on a cruise in the Caribbean. They didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go._

_Would you have gone?_

_Of course not. But I’m their only child. I should at least have been invited._

Abby could hear Riley’s joking tone through the text. Abby bit her lip and started typing, then stopped. Then started again. Then stopped as she watched Riley’s texting icon do the same.

_Do you have Christmas Eve plans?_

Riley’s text came through, and Abby let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Okay.

_Does 24 hours of A Christmas Story count?_

_Okay, no, that’s even sadder than Christmas with the Caldwell’s. Do you want to have dinner?_

_That would be great. Do you have somewhere in mind?_

_I was thinking you could come to my place and I would cook._

_Do you know how to do that? Cook food?_

_Hey, I baked you cookies. Not all of us still eat like we’re in college, Abby. Some of us are grownups._

_What should I bring?_

_Something alcoholic. No white elephant gift required._

Abby laughed at her phone. Not having to attend the white elephant party this year might be the best thing that could have happened from her and Harper’s split.

_Got it._ She paused before hitting send. _It’s a date._

Now the only thing she had to figure out was what, exactly, does one wear to Christmas Eve with your ex-wife’s ex-girlfriend who you currently have a raging crush on?

* * *

Abby showed up on Christmas Eve with a bottle of red, a bottle of white, a bottle of Jameson, and a container of store-bought gingerbread men.

“I panicked.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Holland?”

“Maybe?” Abby grinned, “No, I was at the store and I panicked. I realized I didn’t know what we were having, so I figured… one of each? And Jameson and cookies for dessert?”

“You’re brilliant. Come in,” Riley gestured to the inside of her apartment and stepped aside. She was dressed in a classic black dress with bare feet.

“You look really nice.”

“Thanks, so do you. I like that blazer, I think I have it in blue,” Riley laughed, “I think I became gay just so I could automatically double my wardrobe with a girlfriend.”

“That only works if you’re remotely the same size. Harper’s a giant, I looked ridiculous in her clothes.”

Riley grinned, “I only date women my size for that exact reason.”

“Wow, your place is like, super nice. Way nicer than my studio,” Abby looked around the apartment, which was clean and modern, but warm and much homier than her small studio. A fully decorated Christmas tree stood in front of the window and Abby could smell a clean, winter candle burning somewhere.

“There are a few benefits to being Doctor Riley Bennett, attending physician.” Riley pretended to shine her nails on her dress and look pleased with herself.

“I like that. Do the ladies call you Doctor Bennett in bed?”

“They would if I was actually sleeping with anyone.”

“You’re not dating?”

“Honestly, off and on. I was with the girl you met at Pride for about a year, but it just didn’t work out. I’ve had a few random hookups and a couple actually really great dates, but nothing seems to stick. I’m busy and a workaholic and that can be a turnoff,” Riley shrugged her shoulders, “Are you dating anyone?”

Abby licked her lips, “No, not really. John has sent me on a few comically bad blind dates. He says I need a rebound, but that’s not really my thing. I’m more of a walking lesbian stereotype - U-Haul the next weekend.”

“The promiscuous punk baby dyke turns into a full-blown traditional U-Haul lesbian. That’s the plot of our new gay sitcom right there.”

“Sponsored by Subaru,” Abby chimed in, laughing.

* * *

Riley hadn’t been kidding - she really could cook. The kitchen was full of appetizers and pots simmering on the stove.

“You know there’s only two of us, right?”

“It’s Christmas Eve. Eating too much and getting drunk is pretty much a requirement in my family.”

Abby’s multiple bottles of wine were not going to waste - they decided to drink the white standing around the island in Riley’s kitchen, eating off of the gorgeous charcuterie board she had prepared.

“So how come your parents are in the Caribbean?”

“Trouble in paradise. They’ve been in therapy all year, but I don’t think it’s working. I think this is a last-ditch effort to save their marriage,” Riley ran her fingertip around her wine glass and shrugged.

“That’s too bad. They seemed really in love when I met them at Christmas that year.”

“Yeah, they are. But you know, sometimes love isn’t enough. I’d rather they split than keep being unhappy.”

Abby looked down at the floor and nodded slowly, “I get that. My parents were still married when I lost them, so I think I’ve always thought of divorce as this colossal life failure.”

Riley gently hip-checked Abby and started shaking her head. “Absolutely not. Don’t do that to yourself. Of course no one goes into a marriage thinking it will end, but sometimes shit happens and it’s not your fault. Sometimes people can be in love and not be right for each other. Sometimes it’s the wrong place and time.”

“I know,” Abby sighed and threw back the rest of her glass of Sauvignon Blanc, “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if you and I had just met at the Oxwood. Or anywhere. If you had been you and I had been me and we just met, the way people do. If there had been no Harper… If I had met you first, and not her.”

Abby sat with the gravity of her confession. Riley refilled their glasses.

“Who knows? We could’ve met in high school. We could’ve met at a bar and been a one night stand,” Riley licked her lips and sipped her wine, “I don’t know about you, but right now, I am exactly where I want to be. I wouldn’t change a thing about how we ended up here. It’s cliche, but things happen for a reason. Maybe we needed to grow up. Maybe we weren’t ready before - “

“What if I’m tired of waiting?”

“Then, I think, maybe, it’s our turn,” Riley decisively sat her glass down and put her hand out, “I’m going to kiss you. If you’re not ready for that, or if I’ve misread the situation...”

Abby cut Riley off by pressing her lips against hers. The kiss was innocent and cautious and Riley immediately responded by deepening it, pulling Abby flush against her chest. At the sudden contact, Abby hissed into Riley’s mouth and Riley responded with a moan, breaking the kiss and leaning her forehead against Abby’s.

Abby opened her mouth to speak, but Riley’s hand covered it before she had the chance. “Abby, stop talking. Let me take care of you.”

Abby’s eyes grew wide and she did what she was told, turning her head into Riley’s hand and nuzzling softly, closing her eyes, her body folding into Riley. Abby pulled Riley’s lips down to hers again, and the world outside of Riley’s apartment ceased to exist. “Bedroom,” she whispered.

* * *

Abby’s blazer and Riley’s dress were tangled in a pile in the corner of the bedroom, and Abby was laid out on Riley’s 1500 thread count sheets.

Riley was kissing her way down Abby’s neck, smiling into her chest and mumbled, “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? When was the last time someone made you feel beautiful?” Her mouth found the blonde’s nipple and she took it into her mouth, rolling it delicately back and forth, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to make you feel beautiful?”

Abby groaned in response and thrust her hips up against Riley’s stomach. The heat was pooling between her thighs and her desperation was growing.

“Riley, I need you.”

“What do you need?”

“Fuck… I need… I need you to touch me.”

Riley slipped her hand between Abby’s thighs and was shocked at the wetness she found there. She began to tease Abby by running her hands up and down her thighs, moving to the center, ghosting over the light hair there. Riley slipped a finger down, teasing Abby’s entrance before slipping it inside of her.

“Shit, Riley,” Abby groaned and reached for Riley again, pulling her mouth to hers with desperate, frantic kisses. Riley added another finger and could feel the tension growing, using her thumb to brush gently over Abby’s clit.

“Abby, open your eyes,” Riley whispered, and Abby’s eyes slowly opened and locked on Riley’s.

She was whimpering and gasping, so close... and then everything was tense and Abby fell over the edge. Her vision was black and the tremors shook her body and she could do nothing but cry RileyRileyRileyRiley and Riley was there, scooping her up, kissing away her tears, whispering, “You’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,”

* * *

Hours later, dinner was forgotten. Abby’s head lay resting on Riley’s stomach, Riley threading her fingers through Abby’s hair, drawing lazy circles on her scalp. Church bells rang out from the street, chiming twelve.

“Hey, it’s midnight. It’s Christmas.”

“Mmm… that last orgasm was my present.”

“Just the last? I would have thought the first three were pretty good, too.”

“Now who’s the cocky one?”

“I got you a real present.”

“You got me a present? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I figured, Christmas Eve and all…”

“Did Santa already come? Can I open it? Do I have to wait until morning?”

“That depends… are you staying until morning?”

Abby looked up, searching Riley’s eyes, echoing her earlier words, “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

Six months later, Abby gave up her studio apartment and moved in with Riley.

One year later, Abby received a tenure track position at Columbia and they decided to stick around New York for a while.

Six months after that, they put an offer in on a brownstone near Prospect Park.

Ten months after they moved into the brownstone, Abby and Riley decided that they didn’t need a wedding, but got married at City Hall anyway. This time, John kept his mouth shut, but couldn’t stop crying.

And then, Abby got her happy ending. It was worth waiting for.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just here for the banter, y'all. I'm so grateful for these girls and their awkward softness. 
> 
> I genuinely appreciate every read, kudos and comment. If you liked it, let me know and make my day!


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